


the power of christ compels you!

by rowenabane



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Christianity, Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Witchcraft, johnjae are chaos bros, quoting the bible at inopportune times, this is such a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-24 04:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19716343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenabane/pseuds/rowenabane
Summary: Johnny's first year of college would be so much better if his roommate wasn't, arguably, one of the worst people on earth.





	the power of christ compels you!

**Author's Note:**

> roommates johnny and doyoung was so much fun to write, and I truly hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! thank you <3

“Do you have your bible?” Johnny’s mom asks, smoothing his collar and brushing back his hair with her hand. Johnny loves his mom to death, but she can be a little overbearing sometimes. “A jar of holy water? Your prayer candle?”

“Yes mom,” Johnny whines, pushing her hands back. “I have everything. We checked three times, remember?”

“Do you know who your roommate is? I hope he’s nice to you,” she says worriedly, crease between her eyes.

“It’ll be fine, mom,” Johnny says. “It’s not like he’s gonna be the devil.”

Of course not. Johnny was accepted to the most upstanding Christian university in the state. There is absolutely no possibility of him having a devil for a roommate. An overzealous youth minister, maybe, but certainly not a devil.

“I’m just worried,” she says, patting his cheek. “I’m not used to you being away for such a long time.” Her eyes are concerned, and almost brimming with tears. 

“I’ll be fine mom,” Johnny says again, giving her a hug. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Promise you’ll call if you need something?”

“Of course,” Johnny says, hefting the box with all his belongings into his arms. 

“And promise you won’t eat junk? And you’ll focus on your studies? And go to bed on time?”

“I can’t be too sure about the last one,” Johnny says jokingly, and his mom smiles.

Goodbyes are bitter, but they always lead to something new.

…

Johnny’s dorm room is on the second floor. He told his mom he didn’t need any help to save her the trouble of carrying his junk, but by the time he reaches the second floor he’s panting like he’s just run a mile. He searches the hallway for room 127, which is at the end of the hall. He pushes the door open with his foot.

The rules in the student handbook are very clear: no profanity, no alcohol or drug consumption of any kind, no clothing that portrays graphic images, profanity, or a message against Christian values. After all, it  _ is  _ a Christian university.

The first thing he notices is that half the room is black. There’s black sheets on the bed, some type of black mat on the desk, and a large black tapestry covering the entire wall.

The second thing he notices is that there is an obnoxiously large pentagram on the tapestry, and large purple candles on the desk. Johnny gasps and crosses himself. He is very sure  _ that  _ is against the handbook.

The third thing he notices is that there is someone laying on the bed, their black clothing giving the appearance of a floating head on the pillow. Johnny almost screams.

“Welcome,” the stranger says, eyes closed. His voice is deep and soft.

Johnny backs out into the hallway to check the room number again. 127. He sighs.

“Hello,” Johnny ventures, staring at his new roommate. He places his box on the remaining bed and watches as his roommate languidly opens one eye. It sweeps over him with an air of distaste. Johnny feels chills.

“I’m Doyoung,” the stranger says, stretching. He raises an eyebrow at Johnny.

“I’m Johnny,” Johnny replies. Doyoung scoffs.

“Where in the midwest did you roll in from?” he says. The comment has a carelessness that stings.

Johnny looks down at his button up shirt and khaki pants. Maybe he does look like he’s from the midwest. “I’m from Chicago.”

“It’s midwestern enough,” Doyoung replies. He rolls out of the bed and stretches again, his arms high over his head. Johnny notices his nails are painted the deepest black. “So you’re my roommate?”

“I guess,” Johnny says, looking over at Doyoung’s side of the room.

“Well, don’t let me disturb you,” Doyoung says snidely. “Feel free to take that side of the room.”

“It doesn’t look like I have any other choice.”

“That’s right,” Doyoung says, looking at his nails.

Johnny sighs and opens his backpack, starting with that first. He takes out his prayer candle and places it on the desk so it doesn’t get broken beneath his other stuff. Doyoung screeches.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?” Doyoung screams, clasping his hands to his chest.

“That’s my prayer candle,” Johnny replies.

“GET IT OUT OF MY ROOM!”

“IT'S MY ROOM TOO!”

Johnny was wrong. Doyoung  _ is  _ the devil.

…

At least Johnny doesn't have to worry about Doyoung stealing his belongings. Doyoung regards everything Johnny owns as “tainted by God,” and refuses to even look at Johnny's side of the room. In fact, he likes to pretend Johnny doesn't exist at all.

“Hey,” Johnny says, trying to ask a question.

“The wind is awfully strong today,” Doyoung muses, looking through his phone. “It's almost as if it's talking to me.”

“I  _ am  _ talking to you,” Johnny says.

“What do you want, church boy?”

It’s ironic, really. Everyone at this college is a church kid.

Well, except one.

“Shouldn't we, um, get to know each other? Since we're roommates now?”

Doyoung sneers at him.

Johnny has to admit he is totally out of his depth. The last time he shared a room with someone was at bible study camp back in high school, and that person wasn't even a stranger. It was Jaehyun. So, yeah, Johnny doesn't know what he’s dealing with.

“If you're really that interested, church boy, why don't you just google me?” Doyoung says. “I don't have the time or energy for question and answer.”

Johnny really wants to make friends, but Doyoung is the definition of a complete asshole. There will be other people.

But still, at the end of the day, he always has to come back to Doyoung.

…

Johnny is almost ecstatic when classes start. He doesn't even have to see Doyoung during the day, which means he doesn't have to listen to Doyoung insult him or his clothing or his prayer candle.

But of course, the universe has other plans.

“Fancy meeting you here, church boy,” Doyoung says as he waltzes into Intro to Bio. Johnny groans internally.

“Nice to see you,” Johnny says, but Doyoung just smirks.

“Be honest. You don't want me here, just like I don't want you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Johnny asks.

“Learning.” Doyoung props his feet up on the desk.

Johnny needs to take at least one biology course for his major in education. Just one. So why did it just have to be the one that Doyoung was taking? Why???

“What’s your major?” Johnny asks, going for respectful small talk.

“Biochemistry,” Doyoung says casually, tapping a pencil on the desk.

Johnny expected someone like Doyoung to study literature, or music, or the dark arts. Not biochemistry.

“Why biochemistry?”

“Being a STEM major makes me inherently better than you.”

Johnny decides to mind his own business.

...

Being Doyoung's roommate does have its perks, when it isn't soul-crushingly awful. Doyoung keeps the dorm meticulous, both his side and Johnny's, because he "can't stand dirt."

He also considers it his sole duty to criticize Johnny's way of living, which is definitely  _ not  _ a perk.

“Why do you have three toothbrushes?” Doyoung says exasperatedly, holding up the dental hygiene tools in question.

“They’re extras!” Johnny says, crossing his arms in defiance. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Doyoung says bitterly. “You swallow one?”

"Don't touch my stuff!"

"Don't leave it next to my stuff then!"

Doyoung also has this annoying habit of ritualistically chanting at the strangest times, like when Johnny woke up at three in the morning to find Doyoung standing next to his bed wearing a cloak and holding a candle in his hands. He screamed. Twice.

Doyoung has  _ also  _ managed to smuggle a Bunsen burner out of the science labs, which he uses to burn random objects at random times. Often, he's chanting, which sets Johnny's nerves on edge and fills him with the intense urge to pray. Turns out, Doyoung's a witch.

Not a real one, of course, a la Harry Potter, but one who likes to mess around with candles and tarot cards. He whipped out a Ouija board one evening, and Johnny had to excuse himself from the room and sit in the student lounge until midnight.

"You know," Doyoung says one evening, as he's melting wax in a glass jar while simultaneously reading his textbook, "I love witchcraft because it's just like science. Science with spiritual aspects. Back in the 1700s everyone thought science was witchcraft but no, witchcraft is  _ science _ ." He smiles at his melting wax.

"Are you okay?" Johnny asks cautiously.

"I spent six hours in the chemistry lab today inhaling formaldehyde and similar chemicals," he says happily.

Johnny looks at him. "I think that's bad for you."

"No shit, church boy."

...

Johnny spends a lot of time complaining to Jaehyun about Doyoung.

“Jaehyun, he brought a rat to our dorm room!”

His best friend munches thoughtfully on some chips. “Was it alive?”

“No! It was dead and in some type of vacuum packed bag. He left it on my bed.” Johnny stresses. “I had to wash my sheets."

“You didn't really have to though,” Jaehyun points out. “It was in a bag.”

“I was washing away the memory.” He says sadly.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he and Jaehyun went to the same college. Jaehyun was not only whip smart but also athletic as hell, and he was able to pick and choose a scholarship to pretty much anywhere in the country. Everyone had expected him to go to an Ivy League school, not some private Christian university.

When Johnny had asked him why he had decided to stick with him, he had simply replied, “Blood pact, fourth grade.” and that was it.

“He won't even call me by my real name!” Johnny says. “He keeps calling me ‘church boy’.”

“But you  _ are  _ a church boy,” Jaehyun points out.

Johnny groans.

When Johnny gets back to his room, there's a stranger there with Doyoung. He looks to be about Johnny's age, and is sporting bright pink hair and wide eyes.

Johnny waves at him and the man jumps up.

“You’re Doyoung’s roommate! Johnny, right?”

The man introduces himself as Taeyong, a freshman and dance major. He has a friendly, infectious personality, which is a massive contrast from Doyoung's sulky demeanor.

“Man, Doyoung was just telling me about you!” Taeyong says.

“I told him you're a loser that needs three toothbrushes just in case you get hungry.” Doyoung says, not looking up from his phone.

“Can you skateboard? You're really tall,” Taeyong muses, his statements having literally no connection to each other.

“Um, yeah?” Johnny says cautiously, setting his backpack on the ground. “Why do you ask?”

“You do? That's great! We can go skateboarding together sometime!” Taeyong seems overjoyed, and Johnny's smile is more genuine than he thought it would be.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Johnny says. Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“Are you two done yet? I have important things to do.”

Taeyong punches him in the shoulder. “Like what? Mope around? Summon the devil?”

Doyoung glares and throws a pillow at him, which Taeyong returns with almost inhumane force. Doyoung shrieks.

Turns out, Taeyong is just as nice as he seems.

…

There is an uneasy peace between them. It’s almost like when you have a spider in the corner of your ceiling that you can't reach, so you ignore it and let it live in peace. If you ask Johnny, he would say Doyoung is the spider. Doyoung, however, would think otherwise.

August and September pass with little conflict. However, the second the clocks turn 12:00 am on October 1st, Doyoung is back on his bullshit.

“I can feel the dark energy,” Doyoung says the next morning, sitting in the middle of the room in a circle. “I am becoming more powerful.”

“I sure hope that’s not Sharpie,” Johnny says, stepping around him to grab a pair of jeans out of his closet. “Because if it is, you’re cleaning it.”

“It’s October.”

“So?” Johnny says, frowning at a piece of clothing he’s 95% sure is dirty.

“Halloween is coming.”

“Cool,” Johnny says, deciding to wear the pants anyway.

“I’m going to kill someone and sacrifice them to the Eldritch gods.” Doyoung says, staring at Johnny.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least do it before midterms.”

“Who said it was going to be you?” Doyoung scoffs. “I can’t transport your body to the woods. You’re too heavy."

“You could lure me to the woods and _ then  _ kill me,” Johnny points out, digging through his backpack for his phone charger.

Doyoung gives the idea some thought, but then shakes his head. “Too risky. If anyone sees you with me I’d be the first suspect. How could I even get you to follow me into the woods? What would I even say?”

“You could say you’re giving up your life of Satanism and overall evil to become a nice and sane person, and that you desperately need my help to do so,” Johnny offers.

“In your dreams, church boy,” Doyoung says, standing up. Johnny can hear his knees crack. “Maybe I _ will  _ kill you.”

“Later,” Johnny says dismissively. “I have to get to English class.”

…

Contrary to popular belief, Johnny does have friends. He has Jaehyun, of course, and Taeyong, who skateboards, and Mark, who’s still in high school. He has friends, even if Doyoung isn’t one of them.

He’s sitting in English next to Kun, the bookish English Lit major with an oversized sweater and an oversized smile. Kun is biting the tip of his pen and poring over his notes, when Johnny notices something off.

“Hey Kun,” he says. “Is that blood on your sleeve?”

Kun looks down absentmindedly. “Oh, yeah,” he says, scrubbing at the dark stain on his sweater. “I forgot about it.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Kun says. “Just spilled it on me.”

Johnny frowns. Blood? How does one just spill blood on themselves?

“Do you know Doyoung?” Johnny asks. It’s a long shot, but…

Kun looks up, then smiles at him. “Of course I know Doyoung. He’s the only other person I know that likes Faust. We were talking earlier.” He plays with the pen between his fingers. “Why do you ask?”

“We’re roommates,” Johnny explains. “Wait, he likes _ Faust? _ ”

“Yes,” Kun sighs. “It’s a masterpiece of literature.”

“I couldn’t read past the first part,” Johnny says, and Kun’s face falls a little. “It got a little too weird for me.”

Kun makes a disgusted face, and it’s a strange expression on him. “No one seems to get past the first part,” he gripes, returning to his papers.

“So, is that all? You just know him from talking about books?”

“Oh, well, no,” Kun says sheepishly. “I’m also the Vice President of the Student Occultist Organization.”

“Doyoung’s in that?” Johnny asks, confused. He didn’t even know there was a Student Occultist Organization. He is also pretty sure that occult-related things are not allowed on campus.  _ Very  _ sure. It says it in the handbook.

“Of course he is. He’s the president.”

Johnny sighs and goes back to his copy of  _ Tartuffe _ . Of course he is.

…

“Hey, where are you going?”

Doyoung glares at Johnny. “It’s none of your business. Eat some candy or something.”

Johnny eyes the suspicious black bundle in Doyoung’s arms and raises an eyebrow. “You weren’t serious about that whole ‘sacrifice to the Eldritch gods thing,’ were you?”

Doyoung looks at him with disgust. “Maybe I was,” Doyoung says, eyes stormy.

“Hey Doyoung!” a voice calls from the hall. “You’re going to be late for the party!” There’s a knock on the door before Kun peeks his head in, an oversized black hood falling over his eyes. He waves cheerfully at Johnny.

“You’re going to a party?” Johnny asks.

“Yes. We are going to do dangerous and illicit things,” Doyoung says darkly.

“I baked cookies!” Kun adds brightly.

Doyoung glares at Kun and pushes him out the door. He glares at Johnny, too.

“Happy Halloween, I guess. I’ll pray for you.”

“Don’t bother, church boy.”

...

“You  _ do  _ know you need chapel credits to graduate, right?” Johnny asks. Doyoung flips the page of his book, disinterested.

“I know.”

“And you know that to obtain chapel credits, you actually need to  _ go  _ to chapel service, right?” He stresses. Doyoung yawns.

“I do.”

“So  _ why  _ aren’t you going to chapel?” Johnny asks exasperatedly. Doyoung levels him with a stare that could kill.

“Do I look like I want to go to that?” He snorts. “I would burst into flames the second I stepped through the door.”

Johnny sighs. He’s probably right.

“Well, have fun not graduating then,” Johnny says, putting on a nicer shirt.

“Jokes on you,” Doyoung says, putting down his book. “I should have been kicked out four months ago. They can’t do anything to me.”

“Yes, they can,” Johnny says, tapping his prayer candle. Doyoung shivers.

“No, they can’t. My dad makes a substantial donation to this school every year. If they kick me out he’d throw a fit.”

Johnny pauses. “Is that why you go here?” Suddenly things make a little more sense.

“Yeah,” Doyoung says, sighing. “My dad said something about ‘putting the fear of God in me’.”

“Oh,” Johnny says. “I guess that's cool.” He pauses. “You should still come, though.”

Doyoung snorts. “No thank you.”

…

Christmas break is less than a week away and Johnny is ecstatic with the thought of heading home to his family. Doyoung, however, has different plans.

“Are you going home for break?” Johnny asks, stuffing some things into his backpack.

Doyoung shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Why wouldn’t you go home over Christmas break?” Johnny asks, confused. He loves being home for the holidays - spending time with his friends and family, doing stupid Christmas stuff, all the trappings and traditions of the holidays. Why doesn’t Doyoung?

“Guess I’m just not into the whole holiday thing,” Doyoung says. “Plus, my dad will just gripe at me about school. I’m probably just going to stay here.”

“You don’t want to see them?” Johnny asks. “At all?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess I want to see them,” Doyoung says. “But is it really worth all the trouble?”

Johnny frowns, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “Well, have fun,” he says, staring at Doyoung’s bored face. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Doyoung wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Merry Christmas, church boy.”

…

There is a feeling sitting in Johnny’s stomach. He enjoys being home, enjoys seeing his family, enjoys goofing off with Jaehyun and Mark at the snowy park, but something is bothering him and he can’t quite place what it is.

The thought hits him one evening as he’s helping his mom bake cookies for the neighbors, house warm and bright and alive. The nagging in his chest whispers, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Doyoung is lonely.

And he realizes that the nagging feeling chest is his own brand of loneliness.

...

Christmas break, like all wonderful things, grinds to an end.

Johnny is sitting in Statistics crying over binomial variables when Kun hands him a flyer.

“Interested in joining the Student Council?”

Johnny pauses his self-induced pity party and shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “What do I have to do?”

“We have meetings and stuff,” Kun said. “We plan events. It's really fun.”

Johnny takes the flyer and reads over it. Meetings every Monday at 8:00 pm in the Main Hall. Snacks Provided. Extra Credit Available.

“Sounds fun,” Johnny says, smiling. “I’ll be there.”

The first meeting goes great. After that, everything devolves into planning chaos. Student council is a slippery slope of bad planning, mismanaged funds, and fights over who has to create event flyers.

“I’m going to lose my  _ mind  _ ,” Johnny says, digging through his backpack. “I have to help Kun and Jungwoo balance the student council checkbook for Homecoming Week but everything is messed up because the last person who did it was Lucas and he did it  _ wrong  _ so now I have to help them but I can’t miss chapel service because I need those chapel credits to make up for me being sick two weeks ago and-”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Doyoung says, bored.

Johnny pauses, then looks thoughtfully at Doyoung. “You can help me,” he says.

“Help you with what?” Doyoung asks.

“Go to chapel service and take my student ID so you can swipe it at the doors,” Johnny says, talking faster. “That way I’m registered as being there when I’m really not!”

“Oh no,” Doyoung says, putting his hands up. “There is _ no way  _ I am going to chapel.”

“Please,” Johnny pleads. “I’ll repay you later! Think of it as a redeemable favor!”

“No.”

“You have to!” Johnny pleads.

Doyoung stretches his hands behind his head. “Really? Make me.”

So Johnny does the only thing he can do. He drops to his knees and starts reciting the Lord’s prayer.

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name-”

“Is that really necessary,” Doyoung interrupts, frowning.

“-thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven-”

“You can stop now,” Doyoung says pointedly, standing. “That’s not going to work.”

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses-”

“Fine!” Doyoung groans, running his hands through his air and scowling at Johnny. “Fine! I’ll do it!”

Johnny gets up and brushes the dirt off his pants. “I knew you’d come around, sooner or later.” He smiles at Doyoung, who looks as if he’s just smelled something awful.

“Whatever, church boy,” he scowls as he grabs his jacket and snatches Johnny’s student ID out of his hand. “You’ve won the battle, but not the war. You owe me one.”

He breezes out the door like a thundercloud, all dark skies and lighting.

“Homecoming better be fucking _ amazing  _ !” Doyoung yells, running down the hall.

...

  
  


Homecoming isn’t  _ amazing,  _ but it isn’t a burning pile of trash. So there’s that.

When Homecoming Week ends, Johnny gets to breathe a sigh of relief. He has exactly two seconds to relax before it's officially midterm prep season, and Johnny cannot afford to tank on any of his exams.

It could be said that Johnny and Doyoung cope with their problems very differently. While Johnny buckles down and studies reliably every night, praying before he opens his study guides, Doyoung just becomes more of an annoying asshole.

“Studying is for the weak,” Doyoung states. “I’ve never studied in my life.”

“Sounds fun,” Johnny says crossly, plugging numbers into his calculator.

“I love being intelligent,” Doyoung says, burning something over his illegal bunsen burner. “It really reminds me how superior I am.”

“Are you done making the room smell awful?” Johnny says, peering over his computer. “I’m trying to work.”

“Then work,” Doyoung says. “Don’t let me distract you.”

Johnny leans over in his chair and silently screams for a solid thirty seconds before sitting up and continuing to work.

It would be easier if Johnny could just go to the library to study, but everytime he attempts to get his work done Doyoung is lurking in the shelves. The first time he tried he nearly screamed because he saw Doyoung sleeping in the Molecular Biology section.

“Please,” Johnny whispers to himself, eyes pointed upward. “Please let me pass these exams.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes.

When Johnny wakes up the next morning, there is something off with his prayer candle. Off, as in there are devil horns scribbled on Jesus’s face in Sharpie. Strangely enough, Doyoung is not in the room.

Johnny gasps and crosses himself, then runs out into the hall. Doyoung is not in the library, or the cafeteria, or the Main Hall. He is, however, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the Student Commons with his eyes closed.

Johnny smacks him with his biology notes, hard. He has a  _ lot  _ of notes.

“What in the actual  _ Hell  _ did you do that for?” Doyoung grumbles. Rubbing the back of his head.

“You - you drew devil horns!! On my prayer candle!” Johnny stammers. “On  _ Jesus!  _ ”

“Hail Satan,” Doyoung says calmly, closing his eyes again. Johnny smacks Doyoung again.

“Apologize!” Johnny hisses. “Or I will report you and your gigantic pentagram to the RA!”

“Go ahead,” Doyoung says serenely. “Nothing can hurt me.”

Students are beginning to stare, so Johnny lowers his voice. “I’ll tell Professor Moon you stole one of his Bunsen burners.”

Doyoung’s eyes snap to his. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, standing up. “Fine. I’m  _ sorry  _ ,” he says sarcastically.

“Wow. How sincere. I wonder if Professor Moon is in class right now,” Johnny muses. “Maybe I’ll go see him.”

“No!” Doyoung shouts, grabbing Johnny’s arm. “Fine! I’m sincerely sorry! I apologize! What do you  _ want  _ ?”

“Apologize to Jesus.” Johnny crosses his arms. Doyoung shrinks back, hissing.

“I would never,” he says.

“I wonder if Professor Moon counts his Bunsen burners,” Johnny says thoughtfully.

Doyoung presses his eyes closed, scowling. “I’m  _ sorry  _ Jesus.” He makes a retching noise. “Are you happy now?”

“I am satisfied.” Johnny shuffles his papers. “Now excuse me, I have class.”

…

There is one thing about Doyoung that Johnny doesn’t mind: he spends more time out of their room than he does in it.

However, that just makes his actual presence 100 times more annoying.

When Johnny comes back from Statistics class, Doyoung and Taeyong are sitting on his bed, talking heatedly. When Taeyong sees him he jumps up, smiling.

“Nice to see you Johnny!” He beams. “Doyoung and I were just talking about you!”

“Complaining is a better word,” Doyoung mutters.

“Um...okay?”

“Well, I have to go to dance practice.” Taeyong stretches. “Have fun with the het,” he whispers. However, since he is standing right in front of Johnny, the mystery is lost. Taeyong breezes out of the door before he can ask him to clarify, so he turns to Doyoung.

“Did he just call me a het?” Johnny asks, confused.

“Yes.” Doyoung examines his nails before pulling a bottle of black polish out of his desk.

“Why?”

“Because you are one?” Doyoung says. “What else is he supposed to call you?”

“My name?” Johnny replies. “Wait - is Taeyong-” he pauses. “Not a het?”

Doyoung looks at him as if he’s grown a third eye. “You mean gay? Yeah.”

“Oh,” Johnny nods. “That’s cool.”

“I mean, I’m gay too,” Doyoung says casually, looking at his phone. “We have to stick together.”

“Wait, you’re gay?” Johnny says, frowning in confusion. Doyoung gives him a strange look, his phone screen casting a grayish glow on his kin.

“Yeah,” he answers slowly. “What? Did you think I was straight? Sorry, but a het could  _ never  _ be this cool.”

Johnny nods, and there is a moment of silence between them. Doyoung sits up, forehead creased as he looks at Johnny.

“You aren’t one of those Christians that think gay people should die or anything like that, are you?” Doyoung asks suspiciously. Johnny raises his hands placatingly, stammering.

“No! Of course not! I just wanted to know,” Johnny says, sweating. Of course he doesn’t hate gay people. That would be like hating people who prefer cats over dogs, which is just a thing that happens sometimes. Also, since Jaehyun considers himself a “confident bisexual king”, he’s used to it.

Doyoung seems satisfied with the answer, and leans back.

“So, uh, is Taeyong your boyfriend?” Johnny asks. Doyoung scoffs.

“Taeyong? That noodle head? Of course not. I’ve known him since we were literally five. We know too much about each other.” Doyoung looks up, deep in thought. “How am I suppose to date someone who knows I used to pretend to tie my shoes in class before going to gym, and then steal candy from the other students when they left?”

“That was devious,” Johnny says chidingly. He feels something flutter in his stomach, and chalks it up to nausea caused by those three chocolate bars he ate earlier because he found them in his desk. He doesn’t think anything of it, not really.

“Hell yeah, it was,” Doyoung says proudly, face lighting up with joy. “I’m still in awe of my childhood intellect.”

Johnny turns back to his textbook, and tries not to smile.

…

“You know part of our midterm exam for Bio is a frog dissection,” Doyoung says gleefully, digging through his dresser.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, already feeling a little sick. “When is that?”

“Today,” Doyoung says, humming. He pulls a zippered case out of his stuff and a pack of black latex gloves.

Johnny ignores the roiling in his stomach, or at least tries to. “Today? That’s today? I thought it was tomorrow!”

“Well, you were wrong.” Doyoung pulls on a pair of black gloves and opens the case to reveal an array of very sharp looking tools.

“Wait,” Johnny says. “Are those yours?”

“Yes,” Doyoung says proudly. “I bring these to every dissection I perform. I clean them with anionic detergent.” Doyoung sounds way too enthusiastic for Johnny’s liking, and the fact that he has been sleeping in a room with a man who keeps scalpels next to his shirts and jeans is slightly unsettling. “I’ve dissected two types of heart already.”

Johnny turns green. “Sounds fun.”

“You don’t look too good.” Doyoung grins wickedly. “I hope you feel better once we get to class.”

Johnny grabs his backpack. “Don’t speak to me.”

Johnny passes out during the dissection, which is bad but not necessarily the worst thing that could possibly happen. What is the worst, however, is when he wakes up and Doyoung is peering down at him with a scalpel in his hand. The scream he lets out is undignified and embarrassing.

“Doyoung, back away from the poor boy,” Professor Moon says calmly. “You’re scaring him.”

“My apologies,” Doyoung says snidely. Johnny sits up and Professor Moon stares calmly at him.

“Do you feel as if you need to leave?” he asks. Johnny looks at Doyoung’s smug face and laughing eyes, and grabs a pair of scissors.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he says darkly.

...

“Bro, you need to get out and  _ do  _ something.” Jaehyun says. “Me and some of the guys from the soccer team are gonna go to a party this Friday. Wanna come?”

Johnny looks at him as if he's insane. “Your idea of a party involves a lot of alcohol, and it says in the handbook that alcohol is  _ not  _ allowed on campus.”

“That’s why the party isn’t on school campus,” Jaehyun says. “It’s at the community college at the other end of town.”

“It still doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Come on,” Jaehyuns says. “Midterms are over. Live a little.”

Johnny sighs. Why is he such a good friend? “Fine,” he says. “I’ll go.”

...

Turns out, any idea involving Jaehyun is a bad one. Jaehyun is a great friend and an awesome guy, but sometimes he is severely lacking in the common sense department.

"We have a ten o'clock curfew," Johnny says from the passenger seat of Jaehyun's car. "How are we gonna get back into the dorms?"

"Don't worry about it," Jaehyun says. "I always have a plan."

"That's what you said at bible study camp in sophomore year," Johnny says, agitated. "We both remember how that worked out."

"Listen, I didn't think there would be  _ bears  _ in the woods." The words are haunted.

"Where else would they have been?" Johnny says, voice monotone.

Jaehyun shrugs and pulls up to a house with strobe light pouring out of the windows. Johnny can hear heavy bass music and realizes he's nervous.

Jaehyun frowns. "Are you good? You don't have to come in, if you don't want to."

Johnny steels himself. After all, he's already here. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Johnny isn't the type of guy who goes out often. He's a social person, yes, but he's always panicked in situations like this. He had never been to a party in high school, unless one counted board game night at Sunday school. He would much rather be back in his room with his computer and prayer candle, even with Doyoung, than be here. But maybe Jaehyun is right. Maybe he should learn to live a little.

Jaehyun introduces him to another soccer player, someone named Yuta. Yuta is a nice guy, fun to talk with, and he promptly whisks Jaehyun away.

It is dark and there is too much noise for Johnny to think properly. The bass of the music gives him a headache, and there is a smell that he just can’t place. He just wants to sit down, or go home.

It’s funny, but when he thinks of “home”, the first thing that comes to mind is his little dorm room with Doyoung, not his house in the suburbs. Somehow, his definition of home has changed.

Johnny wanders around the house, which must belong to a student, and eventually ends up sitting on the floor in the kitchen.

He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be doing. Talking? Mingling? He checks the time, and realizes he’s been sitting on the floor for almost 30 minutes just playing games on his phone. He stands up and stretches, heading outside.

It’s dark out, but there are plenty of people on the lawn. Some are shouting and laughing and others are dancing to the heavy bass that works its way across the porch. There are lights strung across the windows.

He looks at the sky, just staring and doing nothing else. Other things crowd into his mind, like that quiz due by 11:59 pm that he’s not sure he finished, or the candy bar hidden inside his desk. He wonders what Doyoung would say to him in this moment, or if he would say nothing at all.

There’s a sound of thudding and a sudden panicked shout.

“Johnny!”

Johnny half turns and something hits him with the impact of a meteor. There's a splitting pain and Johnny feels the world go out from under him, sky turning black.

...

When Johnny wakes up he is back in his dorm room, his head splitting with pain. He groans and sits up, rubbing his forehead. His shirt is rumpled and wet, but he’s not dead, so there’s that.

“You’re awake,” Doyoung observes. He’s stirring something in a glass jar, the liquid murky.

“What happened?” Johnny asks, wincing as the words come out.

“Some asshole knocked you out with a soccer ball,” Doyoung explains. “Jaehyun called me and I brought you back here.” He doesn’t sound angry, or bothered. Just tired. Just stating facts.

“How did you sneak me past the RA?” Johnny asks.

“I just told him you fell asleep in the library and it was my moral and Christian duty to bring you back to your own bed so you could sleep.” Doyoung looks at the jar then hands it to Johnny, who accepts it with unsteady hands.

“You were hit fairly hard,” Doyoung says, drawing up his desk chair so he’s sitting right in front of him. He leans forward, looking closely into Johnny’s eyes. “Do you feel dizzy?”

“Not really,” Johnny says, leaning back. “My head just hurts.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the pain? Drink that.” Doyoung’s voice has the soft assuredness of someone who knows what they’re talking about.

“Maybe a….six? Seven?” Johnny answers, unsure. “What is this stuff?”

“Kale, apples, and several ounces of that holy water you keep in your desk.” Doyoung grabs a flashlight out of his jacket pocket and shines it in Johnny’s eyes. “Are you having any trouble focusing your vision? Any blurriness?”

Johnny shakes his head on reflex, but the immediate pain following the motion is enough to make him cry out. Doyoung frowns.

“You should lay back down,” he says. “You might have a concussion.”

“That sounds fun,” Johnny says, staring up at the ceiling, Doyoung’s face just in the corner of his vision.

“I’ll talk to your teachers tomorrow and tell them you’re sick,” Doyoung says, dimming the lights. “You really shouldn’t go to class in that condition.” He covers Johnny haphazardly with a blanket. “Go to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Johnny murmurs against his pillow. “For everything.”

There is silence, and then Doyoung’s soft voice in the dark. “You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Sleep sweeps Johnny away and it is only later, much later, that he realizes the weight of the words.

...

Johnny spends the next two days either visiting the campus doctor or forcibly restricted to his bed. Doyoung won’t let him do any work, or even open the curtains. This is the most rest that he’s gotten since school started back in August, which is amazing.

“I feel so bad,” Jaehyun says morosely, handing him a pint of half melted ice cream. “I shouldn’t have made you go if it made you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry,” Jaehyun says.

“It’s not your fault,” Johnny replies, spooning some ice cream into his mouth. “And I feel much better now.”

“Still!” Jaehyun says, burrowing his face in his hands. “I’m an awful friend! And it’s my fault that soccer ball hit you. I mean, Yuta kicked it and I deflected it and it hit you, so it’s really my fault.”

Johnny sighs. “You don’t have to worry, really. At least I got out of class.”

“You’re so lucky Doyoung is your roommate,” Jaehyun says. “I called him as soon as you passed out because the rest of us didn’t know what to do.”

“Really?” Johnny asks, curious.

“Yeah. He came right away. And then he chewed all of us out for our ‘incredibly reckless behavior’.”

“That sounds like Doyoung,” Johnny replies.

“We were gonna call an ambulance, but Doyoung said that he didn’t want you to get in trouble. So he took you back himself. He yelled at us for a solid 30 minutes. I thought he was going to hex Yuta or something."

Johnny props his chin on his hand. “That also sounds like Doyoung.”

“Doyoung is literally the smartest person in the school,” Jaehyun says. “You might be a lot worse if he hadn’t come.”

“Doyoung? He never studies for anything, though,” Johnny says.

“He has a 4.0 GPA,” Jaehyun says. “Straight A’s. He’s brilliant.”

“He never told me that.” Johnny tries to think, but he draws a blank.

“He’s also kinda hot,” Jaehyun says casually, and Johnny chokes on his ice cream.

“Doyoung? As in, my roommate the teenage  _ witch  _ Doyoung? As in the Doyoung that would kill me if given the chance?” Johnny shudders. “Please  _ never  _ say that again.”

Jaehyun just shrugs. “I mean...one man’s roommate…”

“Shut up!” Johnny says, hitting him with a pillow.

“You've never thought about it? Not even in a no-homo kinda way?”

“No, I have not.” Johnny states. “And I do not intend to.”

...

But in the end, after Jaehyun leaves and he is just sitting alone in the dark, he does think about it. Just for a moment. He’s spent every day of the past six months sharing a room with Doyoung, but he’s never  _ really  _ looked at him.

When Doyoung comes back after class Johnny takes a moment to really  _ see  _ him. There is a certain beauty to Doyoung, he can see it now - in those dark eyes and angular features, unblemished skin. His dark hair falls over his eyes and he scowls at Johnny.

“What are you looking at, church boy?”

“Nothing,” Johnny replies. “Just...thinking.”

Doyoung snorts derisively. “Huh. Didn't know you could do that.”

“Shut up!”

Nevermind. Doyoung is as attractive as a snake.

…

“Any ideas for our Valentine’s Day Mixer this year?” Jungwoo asks, banging a gavel on a desk. Johnny isn’t even sure where he got it. He’s also sure that it is not necessary for the president of a student council to have a gavel.

“I can make cupcakes!” Kun offers, raising his hand.

“You made cupcakes for the Christmas party, too,” Jungwoo says.

“Yes, but those had snowman sprinkles,” Kun explains. “These will have _ heart  _ sprinkles.”

“Solid plan. Anyone else?”

“I can blow heart shaped balloons!” Lucas adds. “I have big lungs.”

“And a big mouth,” Kun mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” Lucas says, standing. “At least  _ I  _ don’t bake nasty ass cupcakes!”

Kun stands and Johnny has to throw himself between them. “Lucas is doing balloons and Kun is doing cupcakes. I’ll do flyers, then. See? Great ideas!”

Jungwoo looks at them doubtfully. “Okay then. Anything else?” The room is silent. Jungwoo bangs his gavel on the table. “Fine. Meeting adjourned. I’ll see you on Valentine’s Day.”

...

“Have you ever  _ seen  _ a better flyer?” Johnny says, holding a sheet of paper out for Doyoung to observe.

Doyoung leans over. “It’s awfully...pink.”

“Well, yeah,” Johnny says, frowning. “It’s for Valentine’s Day.”

Dyoung hums curiously, obviously disinterested.

“You really should come to the mixer,” Johnny says, eyeing the hearts on his flyer. “It’s going to be really fun.”

“You say that,” Doyoung says, “but whenever the Student Council is involved there’s just chaos.”

“I mean, yeah, but…” Johnny tries to think of a response. “It’ll be fun.”

Doyoung smirks. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Kun is making cupcakes.”

“Again? Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”

…

“Lucas!” Jungwoo snaps. “The balloons should be tied to the tables, not floating in the air!”

Lucas grabs the ribbon trailing from the ceiling and pulls the balloons down, grumbling. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does.” Jungwoo points at Lucas’s chest. “I did  _ not  _ come here to play,” he says. “I came here to succeed. I  _ will  _ end you if I have to.”

“Aren’t you majoring in youth ministries?” Johnny asks from the other end of the room.

“Yes, with a minor in being a bad bitch,” Jungwoo replies. He hands Lucas some red streamers. “Go hang these up.”

Johnny loves the thrill of having a plan that goes correctly. He never experiences it with the Student Council.

Ten people come to the mixer. Five are staff members. The other five are from the Women’s Bible Study group from down the hall. That’s it.

Well, it's the thought that counts.

Johnny shoves some heart shaped candies in his pocket, the red foil crinkling in his pocket. He grabs a few extra for Doyoung, who didn’t show up. He’s not sure if he feels disappointed or not. He stacks a few chairs as Lucas finishes off the cupcakes and pulls balloons and streamers down. All in all, nothing caught on fire and no one had to be sent to the hospital, so he considers it a success.

Johnny heads back to the dorms after cleaning up. The night is cool and there is a lingering winter mixed with the spring, the sky as clear and cloudless as glass. He looks up and sees black boots dangling over the edge of the roof of the residence hall. He frowns, the cool air making his eyes water.

He makes his way up the stairs, past his room and then up onto the roof and sure enough, Doyoung is sitting there alone. He sits next to him, the concrete and brick digging into his hands. The height is almost dizzying, but Doyoung doesn’t even look down.

“You didn’t come to the mixer,” Johnny says. “I really thought you’d be there.”

Doyoung snorts, but his words come out softer than usual. “You  _ do  _ know Valentine’s Day is just a capitalistic, consumerist holiday for selling chocolate, right?”

Johnny shrugs, then remembers the chocolate in his jacket pocket. He pulls it out, the shiny red foil slightly bent. “I brought this for you. I was going to bring you a cupcake, but Lucas ate them all.”

Doyoung takes it and there is a small, fond smile on his face. His eyes look softer in this light. “Thank you.”

“Is there something wrong?” Johnny asks.

“No,” Doyoung says, but his voice has an edge that wasn’t there before. “Yes. Maybe.”

Doyoung’s nails, which are always so meticulously painted and flawlessly glossy, are chipped and cracked at the edges. Doyoung scrapes off flakes of lacquer with his fingers and stares somewhere in the distance, at something Johnny can’t see.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny says, watching the white lamplight from the street cast across Doyoung’s face, making him seem almost like a ghost.

“I just...don’t trust love,” Doyoung says, and there’s something in his voice that betrays a different side of him, beneath his usual snark and flair. He looks down at his hands, and then at Johnny. “It always lets me down.”

They are both silent. Doyoung because he is deep in thought, and Johnny because he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says, the words a filler for something else. His heart has a weight that wasn't there before.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Doyoung scorns, face twisting up as if he has remembered painful. “After all, it was always me - I was too different, I wasn’t the type of person you wanted to spend a long time with. Never the type you bring home to mom and dad. Never the type you take out in public.” Doyoung laughs humorlessly. He gives Johnny the impression that he is much older than he seems, almost timeless. As if he will wake up 100 years in the future and Doyoung will be there, black nail polish and all.

Johnny doesn’t know what to say. That he will always be there? That he won’t let Doyoung down? That there is a place in Johnny’s heart big enough to fit Doyoung and all his love for him? He can’t say it, can’t dream of it.

So he says nothing. Even when Doyong turns around silently and walks away, the night making him the shadow of a man, a pale face in the dark, Johnny holds his tongue.

Some things you cannot say.

...

Johnny has never _ actually  _ been in love.

Sure, he dated that girl from math class in high school but he never really loved her. He didn’t feel any sparks. The sky didn’t turn on her head, and the stars never glittered with her smile. He had always thought that maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough, that maybe he had to search harder, look harder to find that glow he had heard about so often, so many times before.

He, too, thought love was a scam. An unwanted thing. But he had never cast it completely aside.

And now,  _ now  _ he can feel it.

The shadows mix together to form Doyoung’s eyes and he can almost imagine him as a black body filled with stars, nebulas and galaxies twisting around his fingers. He is God’s greatest creation, a being with no physical flaws. The world turns for Doyoung and Johnny can only revolve around him, hoping to get close.

Doyoung is like flowers that are beautiful but poisonous to the touch, like snow that is pristine but cold. Johnny just can never get close enough and so he revolves, endlessly, around him.

...

“Take Psychology second semester, they said,” Johnny grumbles, flipping through his textbook. “It’ll be fun, they said.”

“Are you okay over there?” Doyoung says, lowering his book.

“I hate this class,” Johnny groans.

“Just look all the questions up online,” Doyoung says. “That’s what I did.”

“Taeyong told me you were kicked out of English class today,” Johnny says, opening his computer. “What happened?”

“Some girl mentioned she was anti-vaxx and I cursed her entire family,” Doyoung says casually, flipping the page of his book. “I, personally, think she deserved it.”

“One of these days you are going to get expelled. You do know this is a _ Christian  _ college, right?”

“I am very aware of that unfortunate fact,” Doyoung says, closing his eyes and clasping his hand to his chest. “Hail Satan.”

Johnny gasps. “You really need to stop saying that,” Johnny whispers furiously. He looks nervously at his prayer candle.

“You act like I just said I love Hitler or something,” Doyoung says with disgust, nose wrinkling.

“Isn’t Satan worse than Hitler?” Johnny argues.

“Objectively, Hitler is worse. In Hell, everyone is equal. Satan isn’t a racist asshole like Hitler was.” His argument sounds rehearsed, as if has said this before. Johnny shrugs, then decides to drop the subject.

“I’m glad to know you’ve put so much thought into it,” Johnny grumbles. “Now shut up. I have homework to do.”

...

Time seems to fly and before Johnny knows it April has already arrived, and with it the looming monster of finals. He’s been doing well all year but suddenly there is so much to do in so little time.

A feeling of unease has settled beneath Johnny’s skin, and it has nothing to do with finals or the end of the school year. Every time he sees Doyoung something winds its way across his heart, and suddenly he can’t breathe. Questions have made themselves glaringly present to him - he goes to a  _ Christian  _ college, he comes from a  _ Christian  _ family, and he knows what many Christians think about gay people. The thought of being cast out by people he has known his entire life is enough to wake him up in the middle of the night, his heart racing and his palms sweating. Sometimes he wonders if he’s mistaken, or if he is just feeling something else that he has given the name  _ love  _ , but each time he raises the question he is more sure than before.

He tells Jaehyun first.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun says, offering him a pretzel. “Spill.”

“Do you remember what you said a while back?” Johnny says hesitantly, wringing his hands together. “About Doyoung?”

Jaehyun thoughtfully crunches on a pretzel. “That his taste in music is awful and people that listen to Madonna are a lesser species?”

Johnny shakes his head. “No. Farther back.”

“Are you talking about when I said that Doyoung was kinda hot?” Jaehyun says casually. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well,” Johnny starts. “What if I told you that I agree?”

“Like in a no-homo kinda way?” Jaehyun asks.

Johnny pauses and looks down at his hands. “Maybe in a little-bit-of-homo kind of way.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen and he sits up so he can look Johnny in the eye. “Really? You like him?”

Johnny doesn’t answer, but that is an answer in itself. Jaehyun gasps.

“ _ Doyoung  _ ? The Doyoung that left a  _ rat  _ on your bed? Are we thinking about the same person?”

Johnny sighs. “Yes.”

“Bro, you know I will always support you. You’ve done the same for me.” He’s suddenly very quiet. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I’m worried,” Johnny whispers. “I’m worried about what will happen. What if people suddenly don’t like me? What if my mom just…” He trails off, the words hanging in the air.

“Then they’re hypocrites. Yeah, sure, I’m not the best bible study kid but I do know that God loves all people, right? If someone is against you just because you like another dude then they’re awful people and I will _ personally  _ beat them up.”

Johnny sniffs. “Thanks.”

“Are you gonna tell your mom?” Jaehyun asks.

“I don’t know.” Johnny admits. “I’m afraid to.”

“You have the best mom in the world,” Jaehyun says. “She’s gonna love you no matter what.”

Johnny can’t deny that, but doubt still gnaws through his ribs. There’s always another  _ what if  _ , always another unanswered question.

“What if he doesn’t like me back?” Johnny asks. He looks over at the other side of the room, which is currently empty. Jaehyun shrugs.

“Maybe you just have to take a leap of faith.”

_ A leap of faith. _

…

In every great human story, there are questions of faith. How much we should believe, who we should thank for our gifts, who we should think of when we turn our eyes to the sky, or if we should do any of these things at all.

Behind every heart, there is a question of faith: how much faith do we have in ourselves?

Johnny clutches his phone in his hand and stares at the blank screen. He’s sitting on a bench outside the dorm building just to get some peace and quiet. He opens his contacts and picks a familiar number.

“Mom?” Johnny says, voice lost in the sky. The sun is setting and he is alone on this particular part of campus.

His mom picks up on the first ring. “Johnny! How are you?” She sounds ecstatic to hear his voice.

“I’m good,” Johnny says softly. His voice is almost lost in the crackle of the phone static.

His mom picks up on the fact that something is wrong almost immediately. “Are you okay?” she asks, her mother’s intuition incredibly accurate.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” he says quietly. His heart is beating a hundred miles per minute in his chest and it’s hard to speak the words burning on his tongue. He’s afraid of the consequences - is it better to keep a secret, or tell it to someone you love? “Mom, I think I’m gay.”

There’s silence at the other end and Johnny shuts his eyes, afraid of the rebuke that he’s sure will come.

“Johnny, is that it?” His mom says. “I thought you were into drugs or something.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “Johnny, I don’t care who you love because it is your love, not mine. Remember Galatians 3:28? “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free-”

“ -there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus,” Johnny finishes quietly.

“I love you, Johnny. You are my son and I am your mother and nothing like that could ever come between us. I don’t care what Karen from Knit Club says. I’ll stab her with a knitting needle.”

Johnny laughs and realizes there are tears in his eyes. He sniffles and suddenly feels just a little bit warmer on the inside.

“Thanks mom,” Johnny says.

“Don’t thank me,” she says, “it is not your job to gain my love. It is my duty to give it to you.”

Johnny smiles.

“Now tell me,” she says warmly, “how are your grades?”

...

Life continues, as it usually does.

“Hey Johnny,” Kun says. “The Student Occultist Organization is having a get-together before finals. Would you like to come?”

Johnny shakes his head. “I’m pretty busy. Sorry.” Of course, the real reason Johnny doesn’t want to go is because he still does not know what the Student Occultist Organization _ does  _ at their meetings, and he doesn’t want to be possessed, murdered, or both.

“Understandable. I’ve been studying overtime for the english lit final because I read all the books at the beginning of the year and then I forgot them.” He sighs, readjusting the heavy pile of books in his arms. “Maybe some other time, then.”

Johnny likes to think he’s a relatively good student, but if he opens one more study guide he might actually scream. Quizlet is the only thing keeping him alive at this point. That, and Doyoung.

“Hey,” Doyoung says, tapping the open textbook in front of Johnny with a black lacquered nail. “Pay attention. You cannot afford to fail this test.” His voice shakes Johnny out of his reverie and Johnny squints at the words on the page, which run together like streaks of paint in his blurred vision.

“I am unbelievably exhausted,” Johnny says, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t even read this anymore.”

“You knew how to read in the first place?” Doyoung says, clapping a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “I never knew.”

“Shut up,” Johnny mutters, flipping the page to reveal yet more gibberish.

“You know what they say,” Doyoung says. “The more you suffer the more you will succeed.”

“Whatever.” Johnny rubs his face. “Can I at least get some sleep first?”

“Not until you can tell me the four types of infant attachment,” Doyoung says, tapping the page again. Johnny groans. It’s gonna be a long night.

...

Everyone copes with final exam stress differently. Some kids never leave the chapel, praying over their open textbooks. Some kids drink more coffee than is humanly safe and try to force feed themselves facts. Some kids cry. Johnny just studies and allows himself a snack break to eat and scream.

Doyoung however, is a different matter.

“Is this some sort of...ritual?” Johnny asks as he steps into their dorm room. The purple candles on Doyoung’s desk are lit and the room smells strongly of lavender and vanilla. Doyoung, who is standing in the middle of the room with his arms over his head, cracks open an eye.

“No, this is yoga.” He raises his leg, balancing.

“...okay.” Johnny drops his bag onto his bed and opens the window. Doyoung glares at him.

“What?” Johnny says. “It smells like a Yankee Candle Shop in here.”

“Is there a _ problem  _ with that, church boy?” Doyoung’s voice is snide.

“Doyoung, it is 90 degrees outside and you have _ candles  _ lit. You are going to die of heat stroke.”

“Good,” Doyoung says nonchalantly, bending his knee. “At least I won’t have to deal with exams.”

“Shut up. We  _ both  _ know you’re going to ace all your exams and pass all your classes,” Johnny says. “Unlike some of us.”

“Like I said,” Doyoung says. “Just look up all the questions online.”

“Shut up,” Johnny says, grabbing one of Doyoung’s candles and using it to light his prayer candle. The devil horns are still drawn on the side, but they’ve been partially scraped off.

“Stop  _ tainting  _ my stuff!” Doyoung says. “It’s 90 degrees outside! Why are you even lighting a candle?!”

Johnny just stares at him.

“Ah, yes, that’s a rather hypocritical statement. Continue, I guess.”

“Have fun with your yoga,” Johnny says grabbing a book from his desk and slipping it into his bag.

“I will,” Doyoung replies cheerily. “Have a good day! Hail Satan!”

Johnny leaves Doyoung to his own devices, as he often does.

...

“Have you seen Doyoung?” Taeyong asks, cruising past Johnny on the sidewalk, his skateboard wheels making a rickety noise on the pavement.

“Not since this morning,” Johnny replies.

“He said we were gonna hang out but he vanished and I’ve been looking for him all day.”

“Maybe he’s studying,” Johnny offers. “I’m pretty sure he has a microbiology exam tomorrow.”

“Hm. Maybe.”

“I’m headed to the library now,” Johnny says. “If he’s there I’ll tell him you’ve been looking for him.”

“Thanks!” Taeyong says cheerfully. “I’ll see you!” He breezes away, his wheels clattering.

...

The library has the almost militant hush of people cramming for tests. Johnny walks quietly down the science aisles, his footsteps muted by the red carpet.

He has to walk through the library twice before he finally finds Doyoung, who has somehow managed to wedge himself into the bottom of a shelf, microbiology textbooks obscuring him from view. Johnny nudges him with his shoe, because there is  _ no way  _ he can bend down that far.

“Hey,” Johnny whispers. “Is that you?”

“Depends on who's asking,” Doyoung says, voice muffled.

“Taeyong’s looking for you,” Johnny says, crouching.

“Tell Taeyong that while I value his company, I have somehow managed to remove half this class from my mind and need to quickly re-learn all the content before tomorrow.” Doyoung reaches out from his hiding place to grab a book.

“Oh, okay.” Johnny says. “Do you need any help?”

“I am actually physically unable to move,” Doyoung says. “I think my foot is stuck.”

“Do you need me to...pull you out?”

“That would be welcome, yes."

“How did you even get down there?” Johnny says, grabbing Doyoung’s hand. “Why did you think it was a good idea?”

“Listen,” Doyoung grunts. “The less I have to interact with people the better. I need absolute silence to work.” There’s a slight popping noise as Doyoung pulls his foot free, and Johnny pulls him from the bottom of the shelf.

“Thanks,” Doyoung says, sliding books back into place. “I might have been there forever. Thank the devil for you and Taeyong’s nosy ass.” He sounds almost fond.

“Thanks?”

“Well, I have an exam to study for.” Doyoung states. “I will see you later.”

“You’ve been here since 8:00 am,” Johnny points out. “It’s 3 o’clock. In the afternoon.”

“Snack time, then.”

...

Johnny aces his english exam, prays really hard and does okay on his biology exam, and almost fails his psychology exam. Everything else is happily mediocre, and Johnny celebrates by treating himself to a night of eating candy and crying over Disney movies.

“Are you watching  _ Up?  _ ” Doyoung asks from the other side of the room. Johnny sniffles.

“Yeah,” he replies, as he wipes his eyes.

“And why are you  _ crying?  _ ”

“It’s sad!”

Doyoung scoffs. “You’re such a softie.”

“And what about it?” Johnny replies, sniffling. Doyoung shrugs.

“How were your exams?” Doyoung asks.

“Fine.” Johnny pauses the movie on his computer. “How about you?”

“I aced them all and passed my classes,” Doyoung says. “But I guess we both knew that would happen.”

“We should celebrate!” Johnny says. “We aren’t massive failures!”

“By doing what?” Doyoung says, disgusted. “Crying over movies meant for five-year-olds?”

“Sure!” Johnny pats the space behind him on his bed. “We can watch something else, if you’d like.”

Doyoung eyes him warily and then shrugs, crossing the border from his side of the room to Johnny’s. He sits on the edge of the bed, almost as if he is ready to flee at any moment.

“What do you want to watch?” Johnny asks, navigating through his Netflix.

Doyoung stares at him and suddenly he breaks into a grin, eyes glittering. “Do you watch horror movies?”

...

No, Johnny does _ not  _ watch horror movies. He has a very good reason for this. The reason is that he gets scared very,  _ very  _ easily .

Which is why, halfway through  _ The Village, _ he is visibly shaking and Doyoung is asleep.

“Doyoung,” Johnny whispers, “are you awake?” The computer screen casts a ghostly glow on Doyoung’s pale face in the dark, and reveals that Doyung is, in fact, fast asleep. His cheek rests on Johnny’s shoulder, looking incredibly peaceful, and Johnny’s heart skips a single beat before it remembers that he is in a situation of  _ ultimate peril.  _ There’s a scream from his computer and Johnny jolts against his will. He mentally curses himself as Doyoung blinks awake, broken out of the peaceful stupor of sleep.

“What the _ hell, _ ” Doyoung mutters. “It’s not even that scary.”

“Sorry,” Johnny says sheepishly. Doyoung rests his head against Johnny’s shoulder again, but this time he is wide awake. Johnny shuts his eyes and wills his heart to beat a little slower, or maybe even stop completely. Doyoung hums contentedly and Johnny is ready to become a gigantic puddle of human affection. He fixes his eyes on the computer screen but his thoughts wander.

There’s something about Doyoung that makes Johnny want to pray. Not for forgiveness, or redemption, but for a happy ending.

It’s weird, in a way, how Johnny wants so badly to have the one thing he cannot obtain. All his life has been constraint and faith, charmed American living. A white house in the suburbs and church every Sunday, apple pies and green lawns. Nothing has ever been dark in his life.

But Doyoung, like midnight and satin and ink, carves a channel through his heart deeper than any river could carve into the earth. He’s never wanted anything more than Doyoung to love him, maybe just see him differently than just his roommate, just his friend.

“Are you okay?” Doyoung asks, frowning. He looks at Johnny worriedly. “We can turn it off, if you’d like.”

“No, I’m fine-”

A creature pops up on the screen and Johnny shrieks out of reflex, wrapping his arms around Doyoung. Doyoung goes rigid in his grip and Johnny freezes. He realizes for the first time how close they are, chests almost touching, legs tangled together. Doyoung’s face is so close he can see himself reflected in those dark, dark eyes and Johnny turns red.

“Oh,” he stammers. “I’m sorry-I apologize, I-?”

“Shut up,” Doyoung says softly, “and let me kiss you.”

“Oh, okay-” Johnny says, tripping over the words. He’s silenced by Doyoung, who presses his lips to his. The kiss is gentle as a touch, as the beat of a butterfly's wings against the air. He leans into Doyoung and tilts his head until he can feel Doyoung’s eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

Johnny has never kissed anyone before but this,  _ this  _ is what he’s always imagined it to be like. This is the sparks, the stars, the supernova he’s been searching for. This is the love that he has never been able to find. He is a planet revolving around the sun and the sun is Doyoung, has always been Doyoung.

Doyoung’s hand comes up to his cheek and there is a sound, soft as a sigh, as he pulls away. Johnny can only gape at him, at those eyes that seem to hold all the secrets of the world.

“I just...had to do that,” Doyoung says, voice drifting between them. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Johnny asks, voice a whisper.

“I shouldn’t have-,” Doyoung says. “We’re too different, I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, we are,” Johnny says, touching Doyoung’s hand on his cheek. “But even though we’re as different as the sun and moon, I don’t want you to change.” Johnny takes a deep breath, and then a leap of faith. “I love you, Doyoung. Even when you insult me and burn things in our room and break the rules. “

The God Johnny believes in is kind and loving, and he doesn't care what anyone says because the world is a big place and heaven is even bigger and Doyoung - Doyoung is a little piece of heaven that Johnny keeps in his heart.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against Doyoung's cheek, and continues to revolve.

...

If Johnny thought moving in was hard, moving out is much harder. He’s finding all sorts of junk that he didn’t even know he had.

“Is that a… shirt?” Doyoung asks, frowning at the dusty lump of fabric Johnny has unearthed from the back of his closet.

“I think so,” Johnny replies. “I honestly forgot I had this.”

“It probably has spiders,” Doyoung says. Johnny drops the shirt onto the ground. Doyoung snickers.

“Be sure to step on it a couple times, just to be sure there aren’t any lingering creatures,” Doyoung says, folding his own clothes and tucking them into a suitcase. Like everything about Doyoung, his packing is fastidious - clothes are folded and rolled in neat bundles, the large pentagram tapestry has been rolled up and stowed away, and the half-melted candles have been removed from the desk. Johnny’s side of the room has become woefully bare as well - it doesn’t seem like the room he has made his home for the past nine months. He’s not sure if he’s going to miss it, but it seems strange to be somewhere else.

Johnny picks his shirt up off the floor. “Are you excited? To be going home?”

Doyoung stares at him, summer sun streaming in through the open window, a warm breeze filling the room.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think…” he looks at Johnny. “I think I’ll miss you.”

Johnny wraps him in a hug and Doyoung has the dignity to look affronted. Johnny knows its all an act - when it comes to softies, Doyoung is one of the biggest. He relents and buries his face in Johnny’s chest.

“I know I’ll miss you the most,” Johnny says sweetly. Doyoung gags.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

They grab their belongings, all packed and ready to return home, heading out onto the lawn. Johnny closes the door behind them and it clicks shut. He’s closing the door on one home to return to another, and he’s not sure how he feels.

...

Johnny walks with Doyoung down to the middle of campus and he can see his mom beaming at him. She’s a sight for sore eyes and Johnny manages a tired smile. She gives him a hug and then turns to Doyoung with a delighted gasp.

“And you must be Doyoung! She says cheerfully, wrapping a stiff Doyoung in her arms. “Johnny’s told me all about you!”

The scene is almost funny - Johnny’s mom, wrapped in her bright sweater and jeans, with a grim black-clad Doyoung standing stiffly in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Seo,” Doyoung says politely.

“Oh, the pleasure is mine!” Her voice is excited. “You must come over sometime. Do you like cookies? I can bake cookies-”

The breeze is warm and the sun is bright and Johnny’s life has come full circle.

...

“You know, roommate applications have opened for sophomore year.”

Johnny looks up at Doyoung, who is mindlessly threading his fingers through his air. It’s a Thursday afternoon, sometime in July, and Johnny is just content to lie with his head in Doyoung’s lap as he reads what looks to be a tome on ancient witchcraft practices. He doesn’t bother trying to figure out anymore, as the diagrams illustrated in the yellowing pages are somewhat disturbing.

Doyoung looks down at him, eyes big and dark and unreadable.

“Well?” Doyoung replies.

“I was just wondering,” Johnny says. “Would you be interested in being roommates again next year?” He thinks back on all the times he was glad to have Doyoung as his roommate and all the times he wished Doyoung would just vanish from the face of the earth and take his illicit Bunsen Burner with him. The question hangs in the air, but he isn’t sure what answer he wants.

“I thought you’d be sick of having me around,” Doyoung says. “What with all the pentagrams and such. Didn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

Johnny thinks on it and realizes that he didn’t really care as much as he thought he did. That there are much more important things at stake here than Doyoung’s awful taste in decorating and hobbies.

“You know, the thing that bothered me the most was that Bunsen Burner. Did you ever return it to Professor Moon?”

“No.” There is no regret in his words.

Johnny sighs. “I’m not sick of having you around. In fact, you’re the one I want to have around the most.” He smiles and Doyoung’s hands still, fingers resting against his scalp.

“Well, when you phrase it like _ that _ ,” Doyoung looks at him and grins, a black body filled with stars, his smile the sun that Johnny revolves around. “I couldn’t dream of being roommates with anyone else.”

**Author's Note:**

> [johnny and doyoung's bro playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7kr0Gffg9WJEBo5z8WeETm)
> 
> hmu!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nastaeyong)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/nastaeyong)


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